Tough Times? Not wiping my ass!!!

So the other day I get this e-mail at work, and it's from one of our maintenence guys about how they were installing new toilet paper dispensers in the bathrooms. And soon we would be getting new paper towel dispensers, you know the kind you just wave your hand under and the paper towel automatically comes out. I blow it off, until today... I'm shi shi-ing (that's peeing in Hawaiian!!) and I go to get some toilet paper and realize I'm pulling it from a brand new dispenser. And then it hits me. Just a couple weeks ago we had this nice little meeting to talk about how the economy sucks... and so we should not expect raises. And they were going to ask the people who had raises built into their contracts (not me) to forgo them this year. There was also some talk (behind the scenes) that perhaps another round of layoffs would be coming next year. So basically, I realized. We somehow have money to make sure the toilet paper I wipe my ass with and the paper towels I dry my hands on come from the finest of machines, but we don't have the money to give our people (who P.S. are already under paid... and struggling) a raise. I think this is nothing less than a bunch of waha nui (that's Hawaiian for bullshit). We don't need an ice cream social once a month... or even a bar-b-que. We need money to pay our bills and buy our friends and family presents this holiday season. These "tough times" don't just effect our station. They are affecting our lives. And we should know... we do stories about it every day. So all I'm saying is... I was perfectly fine getting my toilet paper from the slightly g-hetto t-p dispensers, but really, big thanks for making that job easier. Now if I could just figure out how to pay my mortgage.....

Thank this!!!!!

I got the funniest thing in the mail from my mom today. For those of you who know my mom, this will be hilarious, but I'm pretty sure the rest of you will get a kick out of it too. (That's so one of her lines- kick out of it!)
A little background if you don't know her. We are from Minnesota (think Sarah Palin, I mean... my mom doesn't hunt moose, she's not a hockey mom, neither my sister nor I were knocked up at 17 and as far as I know she has never talked about putting lipstick on a farm animal... so basically think the accent and maybe the down-home attitude), she is the friendliest woman ever, you know the kind that has a meaniful conversation with the person in the line behind her at the grocery store, and she is always involved... in everything!!!)
So first... The note that came with my letter today. It read:
Michelle-
This was in the Mpls Star Tribune (our newspaper in MN) and made me laugh. I hope you do the same. I just wanted you to know your mother isn't the only one to say thank you! Love ya, Mom
Before we get to the newspaper clipping enclosed... I must first give you the back story. One weekend when I was about 18-years-old, my mom and I had driven down to my grandma's house. This is about a 3 hour drive through the farmlands of southern Minnesota... enchanting... really!!! So at about 11pm on a Saturday night, we are drving home. I am driving, as we were taking turns, when all of a sudden red and blues in my rear-view mirror. I was pulled over by a kind officer of some hick town... who as soon as he saw I was from the "big city" on my license, was bound and determined to give me a ticket. But not just a speeding ticket, the biggest one he could give me. He proceeded to tell us, he had been following me for about 2 miles and at one point I was going 16 miles over the speed limit- I call B.S. (and which P.S., put me into a whole new level of the amount of money I was going to have to pay this small town for speeding. Ironic, isn't it??) Now before I go any further, I would like to point out that at this very moment (despite what you may think about my driving now), I had a clean driving record. No speeding tickets, I hadn't even been stopped, and photo radar wasn't even a blip in my world. So anyway, this kind officer writes me a speeding ticket for spending a weekend at my grandma's and driving home on a Saturday night with my mom (that'll teach me). If that weren't enough... my mom... from the passenger seat, begins thanking this officer, not once... but over and over again. While I was rolling my window up she was still shouting her thanks at this wonderful man of the law. As soon as I was sure he was out of earshot, I shot my mom one hell of a look. "Why are you thanking him?? He just wrote me a huge speeding ticket!!!" Her reply, "I don't know. He was nice!"
So fast forward to tonight... and the newspaper clipping in the letter from my mom. It should put it all into perspective!!!
It was one of those Dear so-and-so things. The reader writes in a question, the "expert" answers. This one happened to be to Miss Manners, who I can only assume is the word on what polite people should and should not do. It went like this:
Dear Miss Manners: Receiving a citation from a law enforcement officer, in person, is generally a very unpleasant surprise (for example, when being stopped for speeding). However, at the conclusion of such interaction, it seems dismissing the officer with a "thank you" after receipt of the citation is awkwardly impotent. I can think of no other appropriate-yet polite and neutral phrase- to dismiss the officer after such an involuntary transaction has transpired that would serve to acknowledge receipt, yet not necessarily be thankful.
Miss Manners Response: Are you telling Miss Manners that you do not feel grateful to the kind officer for rescuing you from potentially dangerous behavior? If not, do you not see the advantage of two polite words that hint that you do? Miss Manners has never heard of a simple "thank you" being used in court as evidence of guilt.
This is what I have to say to Miss Manners... F-off. And as far as I'm concerned, the only thank you that should be given should come with a whole lot of sarcasm. They already gave you a ticket, what else are they going to do?
But at least these people are getting tickets from real officers... not I-Robot hiding on the side of the road. You should see what kind of thanks I give to them!!!

The Devil... Part Dos

The devil strikes again...
This is a very serious warning for all you valley drivers. Pay close attention or else you may end get caught up in the viscious trap of the devil just like I did. (For those of you new to my blog, you should really go back and read The Devil... Part Uno. It was in August... way back in the day. J knows how to link to things like that, but we all know I'm not that computer savvy, so don't be f-ing lazy... click on August... and then The Devil... and then we'll all be up to speed.) Speed... interesting... because as we all know, that is all the devil cares about these days. So here's my new photo radar run-in. I'm on my way to work today because I got called in to produce the 9. Good times already, right? I'm on the I-10, right before you get to the ramp to get on the 51. I, of course, having already made this trip like 300 times since they started installing these devil followers, also known as photo radar cameras, know that there is a fixed camera coming up on my right hand side. I also know that it tries to trap you because that is an area that goes from 65... to 55... with almost no warning. I laugh in the devils face... I'm too smart for you... I know exactly what's coming... and then I see a flash. WTF?? I look left... Those bastards have put a mobile photo radar van on the left hand side of the road... literally 50 yards in front of the stationary photo radar unit. They have done it just to catch me. They are on to me and my sneaky ways. I know when they are coming and so I always slow down to just under where the camera snaps (See I also know how fast I can be going... you should know too. In a 65mph zone the camera snaps at 76. In a 55 mph zone the camera snaps at 65.) So they put the f-ing mobile van just before where I would have slowed down to avoid the photo radar ticket all together. (Let me just make one thing clear here... I am not one of those people who slams on their brakes the minute they see photo radar. In fact I hate those people, those people are a danger to the roads. You don't have to slow down to five miles under the speed limit when you pass the photo radar. They do not give out gold stars for going super slow. You only need to ease off the gas enough to make sure you are under the clicking speed. If anyone needs lessons, I'd be happy to take you out.) Anyway, my point to you all is this... it is obvious the devil is after me. Now I am doing my best to avoid his fiery photos, but you could be next. Save yourself!! I am warning you... this devil has no kryptonite.

Titties & Turkey

So tonight, I celebrated Thanksgiving. Yes I know it is 5 days early, but when you work in a business that sees no such thing as a holiday, you have to be creative. So a girl from work decided to set up this whole pot-luck Thanksgiving. At first, I hesitated about participating, in fact, I think she had to send me like 3 emails to get me to respond. Finally, I asked what I had to bring. She said a salad and utinsils. I was in. I mean I can do a salad. Really, I was just worried they would expect some real cooking out of me and hello?? We all know that does not happen. Moving on... I arrive for our pot-luck Thanksgiving to find a mish-mash of people from work (I mean, all the cool people, but quite an eccletic group). It's perfect! We all sit down to enjoy our home cooked (in about 8 different homes) meal. At first, there is a bit of silence, but then we find our groove. And I found that it wasn't that different than any other family Thanksgiving I had been to. We all went around and said what we were thankful for. We all pooked fun at each other. (Poor J got it so bad because she was wearing a see-through shirt, but then proceeded to tell everyone that she had "tried to cover the girls up". Of course, we couldn't let it go. I was wearing a low cut shirt, perhaps showing the girls off even more than J, but it was just the "I tried to cover them up" thing that sealed her fate. Needless to say, she was badgered enough that she changed her shirt, a move I consider surrendering and a stance I would never take, especially when engaged in a boob-war. But to each their own... right?) There were several hilarious moments... mostly started by inappropriate comments. At one point, I went to take the trash out and almost ate shit over one of J's three doggie gates... (P.S. She is like psycho dog mom, afraid at any moment her baby will escape. Tonight I asked her what she was going to do if she had kids. She said I don't know but you are supposed to watch them at all times!! Man she cracks me up.) I was laughing hysterically. I had only one glass of wine, but it totally brought me back to my fall down the stairs that started the demise of my life. I shouldn't laugh, but at this point what else are you going to do. Then... there was my covert operation with Ace to get my folding chairs out the front door... the front door that has not one, but two signs that says you can't use it... again because of J's fear that her dog will make a run for it. And finally... there was the moment with R by the fire pit. I was showing her all the new pictures of the twins... and without thinking, I flipped to the next picture, which happened to be a topless picture of me, that I had sent to my boyfriend. All I could say was "Uh, oh!!" We laughed so hard my stomach hurt.
Tonight I realized when you become our age, and live as far away from family as many of us do, you need to rely on the people around you, especially during the holidays. Tonight I realized Thanksgiving can be just as dysfunctional, even if there is no family involved. Tonight I realized it's not so much about the food (although it was fantastic)... but more about the company... the conversation... the laughs.
It's a celebration I hope we make a tradition... and therefore, one that needs a name. My vote was Titties & Turkey. But of course, it's up for discussion... if you have something better... throw it out there. And if I missed any of the hilarious moments (there were so many), this is your time to share. Bottom line thanks for the food...the fun... and the friendship.

Update: Crazy Insomniac

It was just as I had anticipated... I was up until sometime after 7am. My alarm went off at 10am because even though it is Saturday, I had things to do. I slept through it until about 1pm, when I started to hear it but was still so tired I just choose to ignore it for the next hour or so until I dragged myself out of bed... to start my day at 2:30pm. There is nothing healthy or normal about this crazy sleeping pattern of mine. So you would think I would be all wide awake, but as I was driving home from my friend's house at 12:30am... I was practically falling asleep again. WTF?? I have issues... deep and serious sleep issues. They should study me... I wonder how I find a sleep specialist??

Crazy Insomniac

It's official... I am an insomniac. So I figured what better time to discuss the issue, then when I'm right in the middle of it. (Hello, 5:15am!!) But of course, I couldn't be your run-of-the-mill insomniac, you know the kind that just can't sleep, gets a prescription for sleeping pills and calls it a night (pun totally intended!). No, instead I have developed my own form of insomnia, that naturally is crazier that having insomnia in the first place. It goes a little something like this...
Let's just use today as an example:
I am driving home from work at 7:30pm... so tired at times I feel my eyes closing. I literally may be a danger on the road at this point, but somehow I safely make it home. I manage to stay awake long enough to feed my dogs and myself, before falling asleep on the couch. This is not a "nap", but a deep sleep. At 11:00pm I am apparently (although I dont' really remember) awoken by a phone call from my boyfriend. I answer... allegedly talking to him for about four minutes when he says I fall silent. After screaming my name into the phone a few times, he hangs up. A couple minutes later, he calls back. Again I answer and he asks me if I just fell asleep while I was on the phone with him... my response (groggily) "I don't know, did I?" At this point he decides I am in no condition to talk to and tells me he'll call me later. I fall immediately back into my deep sleep (that is if I ever emerged from it in the first place). I wake up at 2:15am, vaguely remembering that I may have had a phone conversation with someone. I frantically look for my cell phone and find it underneath me in the couch. I look at the call history to see that only my boyfriend called (thank god, I mean I don't want to be sleep-talking to anyone important- no offense baby.. Love you!!) I call him back and ask him if we talked... he tells me the whole story... I laugh... out loud... hard. In fact, I am laughing now. You must admit, it is funny. (In a "is there any part of my life that is not crazy" kind of way) Anyway, we talk for about 45 minutes when we decide we are both tired and need to go to bed. So I gather my shit (meaning my glass of water and my dogs) and head upstairs to bed. I put my pjs on, brush my teeth, wash my face and get into bed, ready to pick right up on my deep sleep... I mean I am still tired. But no. Now that is out of the question. So I turn on the tv, maybe watching that will relax me into sleep... 1 hour later, no such luck. I read a chapter of my book... still wide awake. I masterbate (maybe I just have some pent up needs?!!) Nope still can't sleep... and so here I am. Now this is not the first night that this has happened. In fact, it's like the third night this week, so let me tell you how this story is going to end. I will end up falling asleep... into a really deep sleep... anywhere between 1 and 2 hours before I need to get up. At this point, I will sleep through my alarm (which is so loud, it probably wakes the neighbors- just ask my boyfriend.. did I mention I love you?!!) I will wake up, in a panic, when I am supposed to be somewhere (I swear it's like a gift. Wednesday morning I had a doctors appointment at 8am... that's when I woke up. I'm supposed to be at work at 9am, that's when I woke up this morning) So then my day starts with panic... and I work through it with some sort of very fucked up sleep. If at this point you are thinking I should just get a sleeping pill, listen know-it-all, I've thought of that, but that seems a little dangerous, doesn't it?, considering when I do fall asleep, I am already dead to the world (but apparently sometimes carrying on conversations) Let's add a medication that is supposed to make me sleep to the mix and I'm a little concerned about the outcomes. So I'm kind just left with this fucked up insomnia huh? What do you do at 5:15 in the morning when you have tried everything, but can't fall asleep? Should I just start the coffee and get my day going? But the problem is, I am still tired. I want to sleep, but I can't. It's kinda like the story of my life... I just can't have the things I want. I want to get a raise so I can afford to live, but the economy blows. I want my boyfriend to live in the same state as me, but he has his own responsibilities. I want my special (it's a work thing, just means more time and stress for me) to be done so I don't have to worry about it anymore. I want, I want, I want. I kinda sound like that spoiled brat from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory... "I want a golden egg daddy and I want it now!!!" Wow... I am so off topic now it's not even funny... see this is exactly what is going on in my head. And if you are crazy... apparently so is your insomnia. I guess I'm off to try some warm milk or something fucked up like that. Hope you are sleeping well... really I do!!!!!

"F" the economy

Is it just me, or is anyone else already feeling the stress of the holidays? Not because the decorations are already starting to emerge (hello, people can we at least get through Thanksgiving??), but more because this year I have no idea how the hell I am going to pull Christmas off. I can barely pull my bills off... I am in debt for the first time in my life (and just getting deeper p.s.)... I've just been told by work not to expect anything in the line of a raise this year (but I should consider myself very lucky to still have a job)... and one of my credit cards just got cancelled (for no reason other than the credit card industry is so bad that the entire company went under!!!) Did I mention I decided to buy a house and have a mortgage, make a 25 mile drive to and from work, get a blood clot that landed me in the hospital for 6 days... and has me paying a ridiculous amount of medical bills (think in the thousands) and then I fell in love long distance!!! Seriously, I wouldn't give him up for the world, but hello? Long distance love is pricey!! So now he's paying for my next trip to visit. You may be saying "how sweet" or "isn't she lucky" (and I am), but that is just not in my DNA to allow someone to pay for me, to have to rely on someone else to be able to do what I want. So back to the issue at hand. I have been trying to come up with creative, thoughtful, cheap gifts for my family since love is just about all I can afford these days. There are several problems with this... first, I am not artistic so making something is really scary... and second, giving a gift that someone is going to not just like, but love, something that shows them that I really know who they are and what they like, has always been really important to me. Now try to do that on a budget?! Bottom line... like everything else in my life, I'll make it happen or fake it trying. But... I just have to say this... trying to make "dollars and sense" when "money really matters" is harder than I had hoped. So in the meantime, I'll add it to my list of "things to worry about". All I have to say is "F" the economy!!!

The brothel...

This story is old, but totally worth telling! It came up the other day, and I decided I must share.
My friend "J" used to live in Tucson and while she was there, she became totally obsessed with this band (and it's lead singer). So, every once in awile they come to the Valley to play a show and everytime they do, she drags me to them with her... promising this is the time she is actually going to talk to the singer!!! (In truth, she only drug me to the first show. I really like the band now and enjoy going to the shows) Anyway, so one day she told me they were playing a show in Tempe on Saturday night and asked me if I wanted to go. I of course said yes and asked where (I lived and drank in Tempe for 9 years, I figure there are not too many bars I haven't been too, although I may not remember them all!!!) She told me the name of the bar and surprisingly I had never heard of it. Then she told me where it was and I couldn't even picture where a bar would be there. But whatever, we were in. So we decide to meet at this bar. First of all, it's in the middle of a warehouse district. I mean, you drive down a road, lined with warehouse businesses... when all of a sudden this two story building with music blaring and white lights in the trees appears. We figured this must be it... and parked. As we walked up to the building, I got a very wierd feeling... (Note to all: listen to your gut... it is always right!) But we continued on, up the wooden stairs to the second story patio area where we entered another world. There was this large outdoor bar, made of concrete. On top of it were several scantily clad (think stripper-like) women, dancing, for money, which was being cleverly placed in their g-strings. J and I made our way through the patio, thinking that was obviously not where we belonged. We went through a heavy black door... into what looked kind of like a house.. only if your house was dark and creepy. There was a tiny bar with a couple of stools and a little area where some hard rock band was playing. I mean four feet away from me the lead singer was screaming his song... and thrashing his head around so his sweat was actually hitting me. I wanted to bail but instead we sat down at the small bar and ordered drinks. (Well, J ordered a drink, unfortunately at this point in my life I couldn't drink which just made this all the more painful) As we looked around at the eccletic group of people and wondered where the hell were we, we saw a spiral staircase. A staircase that apparently took us downstairs to the area where our band was going to play. Soon I realized that was the only way up and down. And I watched time and time again, as someone would have to back up to let someone up the one-person-at-a-time metal staircase. As J was yelling over the horrible rock band to have some sort of conversation, I realized where we were... The Hotel California... "You can check out, but you can't ever leave." That's when J told me we needed to go outside so she could smoke. We went out to the patio and took a spot in the corner. We were standing there talking, J with her back to the crowd. I felt like almost every guy out there was looking at us (did I mention 90% of the people out there were men... duh? That's where the nearly-naked chicks dancing on the bar were) I blew it off, believing they were looking beyond us, to the dancing ladies. After J's smoke, we went back inside and she asked if I was ready to go downstairs. At this point I freaked out. The Hotel California got the best of me. I actually started to have a panic attack and had to take a Xanax to get through it. After a couple minutes of coaxing, J convinced me it was time to tackle the stairs. So after careful timing... we went down. There we found yet another bar... a big room that apparently our band would play in.. a hall leading to a living room-like area that no one was in... another hall with a bathroom and several closed doors... but that wasn't the wierd part. First, there was this door with a keypad on it. People kept going in and out, first entering some code before the door would unlock and allow them in. Then there was an area with a velvet rope and a bodyguard in a suit. Young women and some guys were going in and out... only after first meeting the bouncer's approval. We fell into a conversation with a couple of people who happened to be waiting for the same band we were, which is how we learned what was behind the velvet rope. Apparently the guy had asked the bodyguard who told him there was a hot tub back there... and that "what happens back there, stays back there" WTF... where the hell were we? At this point, J tells me she needs another smoke, which requires another treck up the staircase from hell... and into stripper city. I'm ready to kill her, but I don't dare be left alone in this crazy place... so I go. As I'm up there this time, I see two of the "ladies" I had seen exit the velvet room, now "working the crowd" on the patio, going from group of guys, to group of guys. I start to wonder if they aren't prostitutes... or something like that. Then I realize guys really are staring at J and I, probably wondering if we are in the same "line of work". J finishes her smoke and we go back down into the depths of hell. Now, finally it is time for our band to play. We go into the room with about 10 other people. (Apparently our music choice isn't really popular with the hookers... good to know) The band starts to play, sounding as good as they always do. During their show, some people wander in. A way too young blonde, with an old guy. Another guy who wanders up to them, pulls the girl away for a minute or two... before sending her back to grandpa (can you say "pimp") The show is great, but short and as soon as it is over, we are ready to try to make our escape from the Hotel California. We leave in one piece, but I don't think we will ever be the same. J and I both agree that it is an experience that we could try to explain, but if you were not there, you will just never understand. (I hope my description has given you some mental picture) Later, my google-stalking friend finds several websites which say said bar is a cover for a brothel and that they film pornos there. And it all starts to make sense. Will I ever go back?? Hell no. But as they say, you never forget your first trip to a whore-house, right??

Can someone say "awkward"?????

So the other night, "J" and I are out to dinner for a friend's birthday. Along for the ride are three of her other friends, you know from a different circle. 2 of them girls, 1 boy. Both girls in serious relationships (1 married, 1 engaged). All of them considerably older than J and I (I would say at least 5 years). (P.S. This is all background information for you, which will become very important when I get to the punch line. When is that happening? Chill out.. I'm getting there)
So.. we're having this lovely dinner.. talking about all sorts of things: getting drunk, relationships, etc. At one point, J and I (who are on one end of the table) are having our own little discussion when suddenly a few words from the other conversation grab our attention. It went a little something like this.
Girl #1-"Abnormal paps... yea. That was how we could always tell which of our friends had been sleeping around."
Girl #2- "Yea, that was always a sure sign of the whores."
Boy- "You know, most of the time those are caused by HPV, the sexually transmitted disease."
At this point, I'm not even sure where the conversation went at that end of the table, but I know how it went on my end... chirp, chirp.
I refused to look up, instead solely focusing my attention on my wine, examining it as I swirled it in my glass, wishing I could take a big pull off the bottle.
All the while, I can feel the tension from J.
You see, both of us have had those "abnormal paps". And both of us of had that lovely conversation with our gynos where we learned we had HPV. So, basically both of us are "those whores". I couldn't look at J for fear of giving away our dirty little secret. (Pun totally intended)
I have several things to say about this...
First, since when has this become dinner conversation? I must admit, I was caught totally off guard. I never thought I would have to worry about such a thing coming up at a birthday dinner.
Second, how the hell does the boy at the table know such things about abnormal paps??
And lastly, there is nothing wrong with being a whore!!
I felt a little defensive and part of me wanted to shout out..."Like 90% of the sexually active population has HPV. One of you probably has it and doesn't even know it!!" But the more sane part of me just wanted to hide. Should we feel ashamed we have HPV? I've known I've had it for years now, and so I have come to terms with it, and the whore-ish-ness that gave it to me. I actually look at it like this, for all the guys I have slept with, and all the times I was a whore... I feel pretty damn lucky to just have HPV, an STD that increases your risk of cervical cancer but that's about it. I just have to be dilligent about my yearly check-ups, which I am.
I hope that HPV is not like the new "in" dinner party conversation, but if having it means I was a whore... the honest answer is "yes-sometimes I was". Should I feel bad, maybe. But instead I just kinda feel like I bet I have a lot better stories than you do.

Great Heart-break

Heart-break. I used to think it was the most horrible thing ever. Something no one should have to, or want to go through. I have a new outlook now. Because now, you see, I believe there are two kinds of heart-break. The kind you get when you just found out that your asshole husband has been cheating on you with women all over the country, even using the same line he used to make you fall in love with him, on another chick. And then, kind of heart-break I am experiencing. My bleeding heart is a self-imposed pain... and it is actually good. Stay with me. You see, I was lucky enough to find the love of my life. Not just someone I love, someone that gives me butterflies, makes me laugh when it doesn't seem possible, hugs me in just the right way, knows what I am thinking even before I do, is always looking out for me, makes me feel like I am THE most important and beautiful woman in the world. The kind of love I think just about everyone is looking for, but few find. I consider myself lucky, everyday I thank (insert your religious holy one) for giving him to me. But as we all know, nothing is perfect. Our obstacle happens to be an ocean... a big fucking shark infested ocean. Two seperate lives, two sets of friends, two sets of responsibilities, two different careers we have both worked extremely hard for. After 4 months and 1 week (but who's counting) we were reunited... and damn did it feel so good. He spent the past three weeks here with me. I was a little worried about how it was all going to work out, would our perfect relationship over the phone, be perfect in person? ((See my previous blog: Minutes)) But it was, he fit perfectly into my world, my arms, my heart. And all it did was to make me fall more in love with him. Something I actually thought was not possible. We had three weeks of bliss... a trip to Sedona, a pu-pu party, a Suns game, a Halloween party, numerous days spent snuggling in bed, walks with the dogs, dinners with friends and my mom. It was perfect... I have no other word than perfect. And then... then the dreaded day came when he had to leave. It was like D-day. And 24 hours before, my heart started breaking. In that final day I think I slept for 2 hours and cried for 8. Even now I am crying. Being away from him just breaks my heart... in a way I could never explain to you. I feel silly actually. For my entire life, I have prided myself on being someone who could do anything, be anything, handle whatever was thrown my way... and I never needed help. I still don't need help... but after these three weeks, I realize I want it. I don't want to go to the grocery store alone, because doing it with him was so much more fun. I don't want to go to bed with no one to hold me. I don't want to walk the dogs alone, with no one to laugh with at their silly moves to get ahead of each other. I don't want to shower alone, and have to get my own towel off the rack. And right now, I don't want to have to be wiping my own tears. I can do it... but I don't want to. And hence... the heart-break.. all associated with my long distance love. This is what I have to deal with for the love of my life. And in my opinion, our relationship is way deeper than just being "in love". That is why I have to make it through the pain. So, I am heart-broken... heart-broken because I am facing yet another countdown (8 weeks and 4 days) until I can feel the love of my life again. But this is a heart-break I would never give up. I could never wish this heart-break away. This pain, pain so bad it makes me physically keel over, feel like I have to throw up and makes me want to rip my heart out. This pain is all part of a great heart-break. A heart-break I can only hope will end with me and my love... together forever.

Too Available

Dating downfalls... I just read this great blog by my good friend "J" all about her problem when it comes to dating... her attraction to unavailable men. She's totally right on about everything she said... and don't worry, I will get back to her. But first, it got me thinking about me. And I think that I have always been too available. I always totally put myself out there, holding nothing back, expecting the best. I am the stereotypical dating optimist. But I hide it pretty well. For the majority of my dating career (Yes, it is a career. It is hard work... and dammit we should get paid for what we put up with on some dates!) I pretended that it didn't really matter... if he called, if we went out again, if it was yet another one-night stand. I pretended like I was in control, when in reality, I was always hoping that this guy would be different, this guy would turn into the one. This would be that one story... you know that one that every girl tells about her friend who met her husband in a bar, on a one-night stand and now they are happily married. My mind calls bullshit, but my heart was always secretly hoping it could be true. I think that's why I never held back. I never wanted to miss the one, I was always afraid if I didn't take this opportunity... that I may never find my true love. It's a theory that may make you vomit, in fact I'm a little disgusted at myself... but it has just always been the way I have worked. So consequently, there were quite a few... more times than I can count... that I got hurt, hoping this guy was different, this guy would call, this guy would stick around, this guy would be the one. Actually, that's why I think I don't really know exactly how many guys I have slept with. After they burned me, I burned them out of my brain. It was easier that way. Especially when your game is to pretend like you don't care. You can't let anyone see that along the way, you may be hurting. So, yes. I think "J" is totally right. We do all have our emotional, dating drawbacks. The things that sometimes hold us back. Do I think they will prevent us from finding our "true loves"? Hell fucking no. But I do think, that as friends, it is our job to call our friends out... I am always pushing "J" to just give it a chance. And I have had many friends along the line that have had to tell me to "give it up" or realize that he was "just not ever going to be worth it". Bottom line, we all have obstacles to overcome and as we all know... every date is an experience. Hell, the worst thing that could happen is they end up here... right???

What? You missed me??

No one panic!! Nothing horrible has happened, at least nothing out of the ordinary for my drama-filled world (Yes! I got to use a hyphen. Incorrectly? Perhaps, but you should know right now... I-have-a-hyphen-obsession. Get on board. It's super fun!!) Back to the point... for the past 3 weeks, I have been spending every moment I could tear myself away from work with the love of my life, the long distance love of my life. Don't worry... there are pleanty of blogs to come about where we go from here... just wanted you to know... I had not forgot about you... my loyal 2 readers. (That might be a stretch, my I'm kinda heart-broken right now... just give it to me... yes!! Another hyphen!)
Bottom line--stay tuned!